Saturday, December 19, 2015

We did not get nearly enough snow last winter. The lack of snowpack in the mountains was devastating (extremely low rivers, drought, summer wildfires, etc.). This winter, though, is starting out pretty good, and we're hoping the snow lasts. Plus, I have (after 15 years of complaining about the cold) become quite the snow lover, so I'm having fun playing in it!

Here are a few pictures from a walk around the neighborhood and a snowshoeing trip on Mt. Spokane.

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

The engines get louder as the plane takes a turn on the runway and straightens out. Everything hums, and the passengers quiet down, all except for a little girl behind me: "Mommy, we're going to go faster and faster!" A pang of regret hits me, and somewhere in the middle of my panic, a sad smile finds its way out. I remember that feeling of awe as a kid, and I miss it so much: my body leaning back as airplane's speed increases, the elation as I realize we're air-borne, the land dropping off below, the climb through the clouds until even they become the ground under us.

Now, as the plane gears up and builds speed down the runway, I experience a moment of terror as it sinks in that I can't get off this plane, that it's going to take off with me in it, and I have no choice but to go along. As we lift into the air, I imagine over and over the plane taking a sudden nose-dive and heading straight back down. Every little bump and change in sound sends my heart into my throat. Eventually I will calm down (unless, God forbid, there's turbulence), and as soon as we land, I'll block out the experience until the next time (or until a Malaysian Airlines flight disappears or crashes). My body will take a good day to recover from the anxiety.

I'm not sure when I became afraid of flying. It's pretty absurd, considering how much I have flown in my life. All over the U.S. and to roughly 15 countries, some multiple times. (And this, of course, does not begin to account for all the other forms of transportation, undoubtedly more risky, in even more places.) In the last year, I've flown to Hawaii, Minnesota (twice), and Alaska, plus a couple smaller flights. As a baby, I slept in a suitcase on the floor at my parents' feet. I played with other little kids under the seats. I've flown alone, even internationally. I've flown in 6-seater props in Africa. In questionable planes. In planes where they had to first fix technical issues that left us stranded at airports overnight. And I was always fine, until...I'm not sure what. Nothing traumatic has happened, but somewhere along the line, fear took hold of me.

Our last flight from Maui to Seattle was quite bumpy. During a bad bout of shaking (the plane and me), I started praying "God, make it smooth, make it smooth, make it smooth." My attempts to control the situation only made me feel more desperate and helpless, and before I knew it, the words in my head shifted to "God, make me brave, make me brave, make me brave."

In adulthood, I have lost the excited faith of a child, the trusting plunge into uncertain circumstances, and I have forgotten how to take risks with boldness. I often can't move forward unless I know the outcome will be what I want, which means I can't move forward at all.

I have the sense that a season of change is coming. I've been relatively comfortable for the last 4 years...same apartment, basically the same job, same community. I'm afraid of anything that will shake that up, but I'm living in a fake world if I think that I can or should try to keep things the same. If I'm not letting God make me brave, I'll miss out on so much.

Thursday, August 13, 2015

I love both words and images, and it's nice to have a low-stakes place like this blog to play around with them. Several years ago, I had fun posting a "short graphic novel" entitled "Dead Rat." I thought I'd do something similar and create a small digital story about a float down the Spokane River that we did yesterday.

River Float

Drifting Leisurely Down the Spokane River

Every summer since we moved to Spokane, Isaac and I tube with groups of friends down a section of the Spokane River that's just a walk away from our neighborhood. After bringing cars to the takeout place, making sure we have enough life jackets to go around, inflating the tubes, and walking down from the park to the river (all of which takes much, much longer than you would expect), we finally ease into the chilly water and start off on our hour-and-a-half float through several sets of rapids, plenty of lazy bends, and lots of nature.

Looking back toward our put-in spot:

I never bring a phone or camera along because it would get soaked, but yesterday, we got to try out my parents' inflatable kayak, which they gifted to us. What a game changer! Our trip was much faster and a bit drier. We towed my dad in a tube--not bad for an old guy. ;)

Part of my paddle fell off, so dangit, I couldn't do any paddling and had to just relax in the front of the kayak with my feet up.

It was late afternoon. The sun was starting to set and the golden-y glow was lovely.

I didn't record any videos of the rapids because I was busy trying to stay inside the kayak and out of the water (and having too much fun), but I did manage to get a few clips from some smoother parts:

(Song credits: "Nyatiti" by Andrew Bird)

Well, I guess that wasn't so much a story as it was a bunch of pictures with captions. Ah well.

Thursday, August 6, 2015

Wow, I can't believe it's August already! I think (fingers crossed) that we have finally said goodbye to the crazy, record-breaking 100-plus-degree weather we've had for weeks at a time and are starting to turn the corner into one of the best times of the year. It's still warm and sunny without being uncomfortably hot, work is mellow before school starts again, and fall is waiting to begin next month with pretty leaves, jeans and sweaters, pumpkin pie....

As I've mentioned before, one thing I love about Spokane is how close it is to so many beautiful places. For example, we're 4.5 hours from Glacier National Park in one direction and Seattle in the other. We're within an easy day's drive to Yellowstone, the Wallowas, the Deschutes National Forest, Mt. Hood, Mt. Rainier, Vancouver BC, the North Cascades National Park, the Selkirk Mountains, and the ocean (etc!). Spokane itself is fairly subtle in its beauty, but it's really the perfect hub for exploring spectacular places.

We've been fortunate to be able to do some fun things in the area this summer. Here are a few highlights from the last couple months.

Camping at Kamloops Island

Early in the summer, we camped with some friends near Kettle Falls, Washington. It was very dry, of course, so I imagine the Columbia River wasn't as pretty as it typically is, but still it was nice.

Seattle

Our dear friends/family Ken and Maile came down from Alaska to visit with their new baby girl. We stayed in a little cottage with them and had a wonderful time catching up and visiting our favorite Seattle spots.

Photo credits go to Maile. :) There are more great pictures on her blog.

Lola's Visit

My friend Lola visited from Minnesota. I feel so blessed to have stayed close with a few of my high school friends, and she is one of them. During her visit, we got a group together to float the river, picked cherries up at Greenbluff, and took some very hot walks.

Nelson, BC

Isaac and I tend to spend a lot of time with people. I'm incredibly grateful for our community, but as an introvert I easily get overwhelmed and exhausted by being "on" so much of the time. Isaac treated me to a refreshing surprise getaway to Nelson during a weekend sandwiched between friend visits, a wedding, and a family reunion.

Family Reunion in Sunriver

We just got back from a week-long trip to Oregon for a family reunion. We drove first to the Wallowa Lake State Park to camp a night, then drove on to Sunriver, which is just south of Bend, to meet up with the family. What a full week! The cousins (10 of us including significant others and one kiddo) shared a house and the "old people" shared a house, and we hiked, biked, floated the river, cooked, ate, drank, talked, swam, and watched old family videos (picture me as a very uncomfortable 13-year-old doing a routine to a Backstreet Boys song). So much love!!

Near Lewiston, ID

The cousins at our last family reunion in 2000

Loooooove this shot of my mom and some of her sisters way back when

The family now

The Deschutes River in Sunriver, OR

From there, I drove with my parents to Sacramento for a cousin's wedding on the other side of the family. Between Spokane, the Wallowas, Sunriver, and northern California, I could hardly get over the beauty of the drives--I'm pretty sure every road we drove on was some official scenic highway.

It has been a packed summer, but there's still time for a bit more fun!

Saturday, May 30, 2015

When I was younger, my mom tried to teach me how to cook. She'd show me easy recipes, talk me through processes, and ask me to help her with meals. As much as I tried not to be bored, I could never focus on the lessons, and I was much more comfortable with clearing the table and washing dishes at the end of the meal.

On my dad's side, any member of the family, male or female, including my younger cousins, could make a perfect pot roast for a large family dinner. I, however, am still not totally sure what a pot roast is. (Is it beef? That you bake in a pot?). I somehow didn't get the chef genes, and my family's all-American traditional Sunday dinners, while lovely, are foreign and mysterious to me.

You could say I'm a late bloomer when it comes to cooking. It wasn't until I got to know Isaac that I started really learning about food. On Maui, I watched his mom and uncles bustle around the kitchen, pulling out jars of home-pickled okra, wrapping pork and fish in ti leaves to make lau lau, stirring eggplant or wild ferns in a sizzling wok. In our apartment, I watched Isaac mimic those fluid movements, saw his confidence as he handled a cleaver and swirled oil around a frying pan and tossed seasonings into dishes without measuring or looking at instructions.

At first, I was simply relieved to have found a man who could do all the cooking. But gradually, I found myself drawn in and slowly gained confidence in my own abilities. And I became interested in good food, curious about meals from my childhood and those things my mom had tried to instill in me, excited about trying new recipes.

Because of Isaac, my repertoire leans heavily on the Asian side. One of the first things I learned from him was how to make stews. I discovered how easy they are, how hard to mess up. I branched out from boneless, skinless chicken breasts and braved bones, thighs, fatty porks--the things that provide the flavor for a broth. A good Asian stew is a staple for us, even during the summer months, and I wanted to share these two that we make quite frequently.

Kimchi Jigae

Because he grew up eating fermented foods and spent a few years in Korea, Isaac loves kimchi. For a long time, I couldn't bring myself to even be in the same room as him when he ate it because, well, it smells awful. Eventually, though, he got me to try kimchi jigae, a stew that cuts down on the potency of the kimchi and includes bacon (YUM) and tofu (yum). The first bite of it sold me on kimchi forever (which is good because fermented foods are sooo good for you), and now I will even eat it plain with dumplings.

In a large pot, saute bacon and onion until the bacon is a consistency that you like (I like it browned but still a tiny bit flabby). Add kimchi and enough water to submerge all the ingredients. Bring to a boil and simmer, covered, for 25 minutes. Uncover and add tofu and green onion; simmer for another 5 or 10 minutes, until the tofu takes on the flavor of the broth. Add sesame oil at the end. Serve over rice.

Pinakbet

There are a lot of variations of this Filipino dish, but this is the version Isaac learned from his mom--smoky, rich, and slow-cooked.Ingredients1 lb bone-in ham hockfish sauceoilan onion, chopped3 cloves garlic, minceda few 1/2 inch chunks fresh gingera large can of diced tomatoeswater3 bay leaves1/2 bag frozen lima beans1 bag frozen okra (cut or whole)2 or 3 Asian eggplants(other good veggie options include zucchini, squash, green beans, and--if you're feeling really Filipino and can find some of it--bitter melon)InstructionsHeat a little oil in a large dutch oven or pot, add the entire ham hock, and douse it with a couple sloshes of fish sauce to season and salt. Saute until browned. Remove pork and set aside. Add more oil to the same pot and saute onion, garlic, and ginger until onion gets translucent. Put the pork back into the pot and add tomatoes. Fill the pot with water until all the ingredients are covered. Add bay leaves, bring to a boil, cover, and simmer until pork pulls apart, about 1-2 hours (it will be a dark pink in color even when cooked).Before pork is finished, add vegetables in intervals. When 45 minutes are left, add lima beans. When 30 minutes are left, add eggplant and okra.Serve over rice. Note that the way we make it, there are bones and fat left even at the end, and this is how we eat it. If that's not your preference, you could experiment with different cuts of pork or substitute shrimp or chicken (though you'd lose some flavor that way). I just pick out the weird bits and give them to Isaac. :)

Saturday, May 23, 2015

My Grandma Dorothy's house in Vancouver, Washington, was one of the few familiar and comfortable places I had in the U.S. during my childhood. When we came back from Kenya on furlough, we would often stay with her for a while, and during that time I adjusted to American culture and got ready to enter public school for a year or travel with my parents to visit churches or do whatever else we happened to be doing for our season away from home. It was a good house to be in during the difficulty of transition.

Another favorite part of the house was the laundry room, because it was where Grandma kept tins of cookies and freshly baked coffee cake. Besides the Faasch smile (lots of gums exposed), one thing I inherited from my grandmother was her sweet tooth. Even in her later years, "what's for dessert?" was a common question. And truly, a meal does feel unbalanced without dessert.

When my grandparents were first married, my grandpa pastored a church in California. Mrs. Warner was an elderly lady in their congregation who took my young grandma under her wing and taught her, among other things, how to make a fantastic coffee cake, a recipe that's still in our family. Soft and lemony with crumbly cinnamon topping...oh my. Despite the fact that Grandma made it with stewed prunes on top, I loved it even as a kid.

Here's the recipe:

Just kidding, I can't read that either. Here's the recipe, with a few modifications:

Dissolve a pinch of sugar in 1/4 cup warm water and stir in yeast to activate. Let it sit about 10 minutes (the surface will be frothy when it's active).

Mix milk, butter, yeast, egg, sugar, salt, grated lemon rind, flour, and raisins in a large bowl. The dough will be very soft and sticky, so use a spoon rather than kneading it. Cover the bowl with a towel or saran wrap and let the dough rise until doubled in bulk, about two hours.

Grease three 9" round baking pans and put the dough in the pans. (I don't have rounds, so I used one 9x13 baking dish, as shown in the picture above. The dough kind of overwhelmed the dish, but the doughiness turned out pretty delicious in the end.)

Mix the topping ingredients to crumb consistency with a fork and sprinkle on top of the dough. I also like to stew dried apricots in a saucepan for about 10 minutes and put them on top of the dough before adding the crumb topping.

Then let the dough rise again, until it's roughly near the top rim of the pans, maybe an hour or so. Bake at 375 for 23-25 minutes.

Friday, May 8, 2015

This post is, in part, a way to say thank you again to our families and friends for all the incredible help and love that went into our wedding almost four years ago. I still can't get over how so many people jumped in generously and took things on, from decorations to photos to food, and made it a day of beauty, celebration, and fun. When we remember our wedding, we rejoice that in marriage we are not alone; we are part of families, part of family.

Thanks Mom for endless planning; thanks Mary for bringing plumerias vacuum sealed all the way from Maui; thanks Thiesens for grilling pork to perfection; thanks Minis for arranging stunning tropical bouquets; thanks Auntie Loretta for leading the army of aunties in weaving ti-leaf leis; thanks Lia and Cara and Cassandra for the pictures; thanks to Isaac's family who hosted rehearsal dinner and made insanely great salads for the wedding; thanks Maile for the cupcakes; thanks Erica for the perfect mango salsa; thanks bridesmaids and groomsmen for traveling on tight budgets to be there with us...the list goes on! Thanks thanks thanks--I seriously could never express my gratitude enough.

What was so fun about the wedding for us was bringing together our two very different families and their traditions. My family has a more "traditional" American approach, though there's an international flavor to their lives too. Isaac's dad's small family is mostly in Arkansas, and his mom and her nine siblings are concentrated in Hawaii and the West Coast and have big-family, Filipino/Hawaiian traditions that I was still very much adjusting to at that point. All of these differences came together smoothly and the fusion was fun, not to mention delicious, since the food was all made by our families.

It was such a DIY wedding that the groom himself was busy cooking the night before, mixing up a marinade for 40 pounds of shoyu chicken and sealing everything up in Ziplock bags. Fortunately there aren't too many ingredients in this delicious Hawaiian recipe:

Whisk together the soy sauce, brown sugar, water, garlic,
onion, ginger, black pepper, and oregano in a large glass or ceramic bowl. Add the chicken thighs, and toss to
evenly coat. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap, and marinate the chicken in the
refrigerator for at least 1 hour. Grill; discard the marinade.

If you're not in the mood for grilling, sauté the garlic and onion in a saucepan, add all the rest of the ingredients plus an extra cup of water and bring everything to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and stew about 30 minutes, or until chicken is cooked and tender.

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

In 2007, I returned to Kenya for a visit 8 years after we moved to the U.S. My dad and I visited the village where I spent the first 10 years of my life, and I was sucked into this surreal vortex of “was this my life?” Everything was sharply familiar—the old road to Tanzania crumbling to a narrow trail beside our house, the massive mango and cashew nut trees, the same neighbors, though aged—but it was more like a dream that I’d had before, where it felt like everything only existed in my head in the first place.

One of those familiar and strange things was how pitch-black dark it was. One night we walked across the road and down a dirt path to visit friends for a meal, and the blackness was so intense my eyes hurt. All I could see was the skinny beam of light from one flashlight, critters flashing through it, and the bright stars.

My undergraduate capstone, which I completed not long after the trip, was a series of poems about returning to Kenya. I scrounged up this one, which attempted to capture this meal, these feelings, this darkness:

Tambukira (To Remember)

Fatuma sits on a low stool by the fire, her spoon rotating around a sufuria, smoke trailing into the palms. A yellow kerosene lantern softens shadows across her cheekbones as she looks up, greets me quietly. I sit on a mat, shifting my legs under a long skirt as speech halts, sentences break; I have no words for college, snow, freeways. She takes out an envelope of photographs. In one, a baby is tied snugly to her back. Years later, a girl plays with Kadara on a battered stoop. She looks like she belongs, I think, not sure I recognize myself in the space this small, white face filled.

We eat cassava root boiled in coconut milk, pressing it around spiced meat. Dark sits heavy, blurs our shapes. Quiet, we search each other for memory. I want to hold this beauty, the endless face of the Kenya I knew. Black trees blot patches of stars flung like dust across the sky, folding us close, a small circle, dream in the midst of someone’s sleep. I cannot ask, What waits to be awakened?

I can’t get cassava here (although I bought tapioca recently to make pudding, and the bag says they are the same thing as cassava. Is this true??), so I want to share another Kenyan recipe that I make from time to time, coconut beans, called maharagwe ya nazi in Swahili. It is especially good with the flatbread chapati, the most perfect form of carbs in the world; done the Kenyan way, chapati turns out flaky, dense, tender, with just the right amount of soft chewiness and grease.

I try my best to soak beans from scratch (we're pretty good with soaking and then freezing chickpeas for Isaac's hummus), but I'll be honest: I use a lot of canned beans. Fresh coconuts are, uh, hard to come by, not to mention not worth the trouble, so I feel fine about using canned coconut milk.

So here's my Americanized and easy version of coconut beans (thanks for this, Mom):

Saute onion. When nice and translucent, add beans, coconut milk, and seasonings. Simmer. Serve with rice. (See, I said it was easy. Too easy.)

Also, here's a link to learn how to make chapati. They're a little time intensive, so I don't do them often. If you want a veggie to go along with this meal too, I recommend sautéed collard greens (the equivalent to sukuma wiki in Kenya).

Friday, May 1, 2015

In one of those help-me-I-can't-stop-scrolling-through-my-Facebook-feed-and-clicking-on-sensational-articles moments a while back, I stumbled across this (or some version of it), which references a collection of National Geographic photos of what average Americans will look like in 2050. Basically, everyone has a tan skin tone and pretty eyes and is a mix of ethnicities. While I do find it quite sad to lose diversity in one sense (because really everyone will, supposedly, look quite similar), I also think there's something beautiful about so much diversity existing in each person individually.

If Isaac and I have kids, they will have German, Filipino, Swiss, Chinese, Spanish, Dutch, Welsh, and English roots. They will inherit bits and pieces of our Pacific Northwest, Hawaiian, Midwest, and Kenyan cultures, with a smidgen of Korean and other places that have stuck with us. This jumbling of blood, cultures, and histories is unique to us in its specific makeup, but that's pretty much the story of every American.

Our favorite and most natural way to celebrate heritage is through food. Our conversations with people frequently turn to food, and we love to hear what others grew up with and adopted and enjoy. Like our friend Laura's Swedish ugnspannkaka (think baked deep-dish pancake custard), which we've enjoyed at multiple breakfast gatherings.

So I thought it would be fun, over the next few weeks or so, to share several recipes that have sprung up from the varied pasts, homes, cultures, and families that Isaac and I belong to, food that we'll make our kids eat (and already make our friends eat, sometimes stretching them beyond their comfort zones ;)) and hope that they enjoy and embrace as their own.

Friday, April 17, 2015

Every time I'm back at my parents' house in Minneapolis, where I spent my high school years and college summers, I sort through my belongings and get rid of things. At first that entailed taking things off the walls and emptying out dressers. Then it was packing boxes into the attic. Now, it means going through each box in the dusty attic and taking out each item and remembering and then deciding to toss (slash donate) or to keep it. I should note that no one makes me do this; I love the process. I find that every time I am ready to get rid of more, though there are many things I still cling to with nostalgia.

I spent the last week in Minneapolis for a writing conference, and this time I got even more serious about getting rid of things and consolidating boxes, since my parents will likely be selling the house and moving in about a year. Here are a few of my "toss" and "keep" items.

Keep: Musikit Teddy

Sad story about this little guy. He has a music box inside him which used to play Brahms' Lullaby--I enjoyed winding him up and listening to the song as a kid. Then one time in a fit of adolescent rage, I threw him at a wall and the music box shattered. Now, even though he just rattles, I can't bring myself to give up my little Musikit. Just look at that sweet face.

Keep: Box O Barbies

Large chunks of my childhood were spent dreaming up Barbie families and kingdoms and adventures with Kara and Cassie. We had elaborate multi-story palaces (i.e. bookshelves, in my case) decorated with a mix of a few actual plasticky Mattel brand things and heaps of our own creations: calendar cutouts, bits and pieces of broken jewelry, wooden and stone carvings, scarves, hand-made crowns and clothes. I understand reservations about Barbie and body image issues, and I also have philosophical doubts about her in theory, but my own experience was pure. It's hard to explain.

Toss: Orlando Bloom Paraphernalia

I'll give you one guess which Lord of the Rings movie character was my favorite. In the early 2000's, I had up one or two *NSync posters, a couple Josh Hartnetts, and the rest of my wall space was dedicated to Orlando Bloom. I don't even know why I still had these--Isaac will be glad to know I recycled these immediately after taking the picture.

Keep: My First Book of Poems

To remember those humble beginnings.

Toss: Travel Junk

I was somewhat of a packrat when I was a kid. Every postcard, train ticket, subway map, museum brochure, and gum wrapper from our world travels was precious to me. I think I intended to make beautiful scrapbooks, but mostly it ended up becoming piles. The few scrapbooks I did make have sophisticated and useful commentary like "This town was really boring" or "Painting by some artist."

Toss: Sticker Books

I guess I thought these would be collectible someday, like Beanie Babies.

Keep: High School Yearbooks and Photos (and Friends!)

I am deeply, incredibly blessed by high school friendships that have stayed strong over many years. Hearing that I would be in the Twin Cities, last week Julie came from Chicago and Jeanie from Wisconsin, and we had a good old-fashioned sleepover. I truly never thought I would have one of those again! In the midst of our usual catching up and conversation about our lives now, we spent time perusing old yearbooks and trying to remember who dated whom and wondering what people are doing now.

Toss: Volleyball Most Improved Player Award

I think this was like the annual consolation prize for my high school volleyball team. Or else I did truly keep improving every year. Either way, I didn't feel the need to keep the plaque.

Keep: Asterix Comics

One of my most comforting childhood memories is eating lunch in my room in our village house during the hottest part of the day and reading Asterix (I am an introverted only child, after all). If you haven't read these comic books about a village of invincible and weird little characters holding out against occupation by ancient Rome, you have truly missed out--but it's not too late.

Keep: China Kids' Dishes

Aren't these too cute? It seems like they don't make stuff like this anymore. Somehow these dishes survived my childhood, but within the last few years I accidentally broke the matching pink Mikasa sheep plate.